


Under His Spell

by Unfeathered



Series: Connection [7]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Body Paint, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Magic, Mild Kink, Smut, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23930323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfeathered/pseuds/Unfeathered
Summary: Jack is fidgeting; Giles devises ways to keep him still
Relationships: Rupert Giles/Jack Harkness
Series: Connection [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584910
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12
Collections: M20 - 2020 April Fools Mini-Round of Rounds of Kink





	Under His Spell

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the April Fool's Mini-Round 2020 at Rounds of Kink, inspired by the prompts: _meditation_ and _spine_ and the kinks: _bodypainting or inkbrushing on someone's skin_ , _discipline or punishment_ , _talking and communication issues (silence)_ and _situational engineering_ (a tiny bit). I didn't really manage to get _April Fool's_ in there, although there is a bit of a twist so perhaps it's a slight April Fool's on Jack…
> 
> Set during early S7 of _Buffy_ and pre-series for _Torchwood_

"Jack, will you please just stay still?"

"It tickles!"

Giles looks down at Jack in exasperation. Jack is, admittedly, lovely to look down at, and really rather distracting. He's face-down on Giles' bed, naked and hard, with a plain sheet beneath him to catch any drips of ink, because Giles is painting runes on his back.

Or trying to. He's managed two characters so far, and they're both crooked.

"Jack," he says, in the long-suffering tone he honed so well for Buffy, "you know why you're here, like this. Because you wouldn't be still and quiet while I finished making notes downstairs, so now I'm having to make my notes on _you_." Which is not working out quite as he anticipated. "And the longer you wriggle and moan, the longer it's going to take me, so the longer it will be before you can have some proper fun."

"You could make this into the fun?" Jack suggests hopefully, looking round at him with big puppy-dog eyes. "Make me drop, Giles. You know how good I can be when I'm down."

Oh yes, he does. He certainly does, and he agrees it would be a good solution, as well as a lot of fun, if he can just make it happen. He takes another long look at Jack, admiring the long curve of his spine, the pert arse and the long, spread legs, thinking about what he could do to help Jack get to the place where staying still is easy. He'd hoped that just telling him to be still would do, helped by the soothing strokes of his paintbrush, but apparently it tickles too much and perhaps Jack is just in too light-hearted a mood today to go down that easily. He doesn't really want to stop Jack feeling so good, because it's such a delight to see, but perhaps there are ways he could help Jack drop without resorting to destroying that good mood.

Because he really does want to finish this writing on Jack's back.

He makes up his mind. "All right. Stay there," he says, pushing off the bed and heading for the box in the base of his wardrobe where he keeps his supplies. First off: cuffs. Those always seem to help Jack settle.

The cuffs he chooses are heavy black leather, solid and definitely intended to be felt, even without being attached to anything, although he does intend to attach them to something. He wraps one around Jack's right wrist first, buckling it snugly, and watches Jack flex his hand, testing the restriction of it, absorbing the way he'll be able to feel its weight, its faint pressure, even when he's still, and even more if he tries to move. After a moment, Jack looks up at him and nods, already a little calmer, and Giles smiles down at him and circles round the end of the bed to Jack's left side.

This is the wrist which already has leather encasing it, but he knows if he's going to get Jack to drop then the familiar leather of the wrist computer has to go. It's far too much a symbol of the hero he is to allow him to feel properly submissive. He sets his hands on the buckle and flicks a quick glance up at Jack's face for permission. Jack only hesitates for a fraction of a second before he meets his gaze and nods.

"Good boy," Giles says, and unbuckles the wriststrap, replacing it unhurriedly with the pair of the cuff already on Jack's other wrist. Jack flexes and tests that one too and when he's sure Jack is comfortable Giles gathers up a length of rope, loops it through one of the rings on the cuff, and ties it off on the bedpost, stretching Jack's arm out nicely. Then he repeats the process on the other side, and stands back to admire his work.

Oh yes, very nice. Jack does look lovely like that, the broadness of his shoulders narrowed by having his arms stretched forwards. And Jack's starting to settle, already calmer and quieter than he was.

Speaking of which… He eyes Jack, wondering if he should add a gag. He knows from experience that stopping Jack talking is a major factor in enabling him to let go. But with Jack face-down and no eye contact, he doesn't particularly want Jack unable to communicate if he needs to. Not that a gag would prevent that entirely – the man is perfectly able to make a lot of noise around one, as he found out on the one occasion he tried it – but still… No. No gag.

"Very good, Jack. Look at me." When blue eyes are focussed on his own, he smiles, warmly. "I'm not going to gag you…" He grins a little at the flare in the blue eyes as Jack realises he was considering it, and then the relief. "But I would like you not to speak for the time being, please. In a moment, I'd like you to close your eyes, lay your head down and just focus on your breathing for me. Understood?"

Jack draws breath for a _Yes, Giles_ , reviews the orders he's just been given, reconsiders and just nods instead. So quick on the uptake, and Giles smiles, pride rushing through him, as he climbs back onto the bed beside Jack, bringing his hand up to stroke over Jack's short hair, gentle pressure encouraging him to lay his head down, turning his face to the side so he can breathe, and relax. There's not much resistance; Jack always exhibits a rather stunning amount of faith in him.

"And close your eyes," he prompts, and Jack smiles up at him and then obediently closes his eyes, long lashes dark against slightly flushed cheeks.

In reward, Giles smooths his hand down Jack's back, careful to avoid the two runes that he's actually managed to paint so far, though the ink is probably dry by now. Jack groans and arches up into the touch, and Giles chuckles to himself. Jack really is very predictable.

"Be still, Jack," he emphasises quietly. There's a little shiver and then Jack inhales and exhales deliberately and relaxes a little further.

"Good," he murmurs, with pride in his tone. He strokes downwards again, firm and steady, watching Jack take the pressure and use it to ground himself. Again, and again, he strokes, and with each pass of his hand Jack goes a little looser, a little easier.

One final time he brings his hand up again but this time leaves it covering the back of Jack's neck, and watches as that makes Jack melt a little bit more. "Good boy," he says again, and leans down low beside Jack's ear to murmur, "I want you to stay like this, Jack. Nice and still, eyes closed, just breathing for me."

He doesn't ask for a response, because the whole point is that he doesn't want one. The only response he wants is Jack's complete acquiescence and submission.

"Good," he says again when Jack stays still and doesn't try to answer, or move. Gentle, repetitive reassurance and, after another moment just to make sure, he moves back into position beside Jack's hip, picks up his discarded paintbrush and dips it into the inkpot on the tray.

"I'm going to start on my notes again, Jack," he says calmly, leaning right over Jack and planting his right hand firmly on the bed for stability. He knows the extra contact and weight of him leaning across will help Jack too.

The first stroke of the brush makes Jack twitch, and he clucks his tongue disapprovingly. Jack can't seem to help twitching as he paints, however, and he sighs softly.

"Breathe, Jack. Slowly."

That seems to help, and he studies Jack for a moment as he gathers more ink onto his brush. Perhaps he could take that idea a little further.

"All right, Jack, I want you to follow my instructions to breathe. You breathe in when I tell you, and you breathe out when I tell you. All right?"

That gets him a much bigger shudder than previously, which is to be expected, because he knows how much Jack gets turned on by breathplay, even if what he's just asked for is only a very innocuous form of it. He waits, and gets a nod, and he nods in response, even though Jack can't see it. As close as they are, Jack will feel the movement through the rest of his body.

"Good. Breathe in, then. Slowly."

Brush in hand, tapping off the excess ink and checking his book for the next symbol, ready to go as soon as he gives the next command.

"And out." And he's there with the brush, deftly painting the rune on Jack's skin, and he was right: there's much, much less reaction this time. Excellent.

He smiles. "Good, Jack. And in again."

It works. It takes a little concentration, to keep the timing steady – and gradually slowing, little by little – whilst also focussing on copying the runes precisely from the book, because one wrong brushstroke and he could end up painting entirely the wrong spell onto Jack's skin. But it works, and he keeps it going, enjoying the gentle rhythm of it, the focus slowly tightening between them. It's soothing, mesmerising, almost like meditating, together.

By the time he's nearing the end of his writing, the length of time he's asking Jack to breathe in for, and then out again for, is just a little too slow for comfort. He can feel Jack starting to work for it, even though there's not an iota of protest. No hint of movement either, except the long, slow drawing in of breath, and the almost-as-slow letting it out again.

Jack is completely under. Completely his. It's one hell of a feeling.

But he forces the triumph down, for now, because he has a spell to finish. Three more slow, drawn-out breaths, three more characters, and he can feel Jack beginning to realise that he's struggling now, the faint stirrings of concern, of apprehension.

"Last one, Jack," he says, his voice as low and hypnotic as he can make it. "Breathe in for me." Dipping the brush for the last time, tapping off the excess ink, and then waiting, waiting for the right moment. "And out."

Nimbly he paints the final rune, a longer brushstroke, curving into the dip at the base of Jack's spine, and there's a momentary flare of brightness as every symbol that he's painted glows golden for an instant and then fades, and the writing fades too, suddenly looking as if it's been there forever, a part of Jack's skin.

Jack stirs, just a little, too far down to react much but it's clear that he felt the magic working. Giles shushes him, setting the paintbrush down and reaching up to stroke over Jack's hair.

"You did so well, Jack," he croons, and then he realises Jack's still waiting, still hasn't drawn in breath and something shoots through him, something that might be pride or might be lust or maybe both, and he says, his voice a little husky, "Breathe in. Slowly. As slowly as you can."

It's going to be hard for Jack, whose lungs must be aching by now, but it gives him a moment to take off his glasses now that he doesn't need them to read and put them on the tray, and remove tray and book to the furthest corner of the bed, out of the way. Then he leans down beside Jack, watching him, entranced by the sheer trust and determination demonstrated by what Jack's doing for him.

As he finally rewards that trust by instructing Jack to exhale, he nudges Jack's hip, encouraging him to roll slightly onto his side. He's not quite sure whether to expect Jack to be hard still, but he is. Of course he is. Giles smiles because in some ways Jack really is so predictable, and in others still so utterly capable of surprising him.

"Very good," he murmurs, and shifts. "Open your eyes and look at me, Jack."

It takes a moment, but when Jack's eyes open they are dark with arousal, the beautiful blue almost complete subsumed. Giles smiles again, and is careful to telegraph where his hand is reaching out to, so that Jack's reflexive gasp when it curls around his cock is timed to perfection with the command to inhale. He definitely doesn't want Jack thinking he's done _anything_ wrong.

"And out," he says, making the timing of it much shorter than it has been, because it was a much faster gasp in, and because Jack now has _so_ much more stimulation to deal with. He keeps the commands to breathe going while he works Jack's cock, and gradually starts to draw them out again, just when Jack's heart is starting to pound, when his breathing would normally be starting to get really quite fast and ragged. Jack's eyes go wide as he realises what he's doing, but he doesn't protest, doesn't try to sneak in any extra breaths, just fixes his gaze intently on Giles and sweats it out, trembling, until each command is given, in or out, while his cock twitches and quivers in Giles' firm grip.

With such wonderful, complete connection between the two of them, he's intimately aware of how close Jack's getting when he finally makes the last command. "Hold it, Jack. Big breath in and hold it, and you don't get to let it out until you come."

Jack's eyes look like saucers and there's a helpless little whine at the back of his throat, but he does it. Drags in as big a breath as he can and clamps his mouth closed, eyes wide and frantic, and Giles can see _everything_ , every flare of pleasure, every urgent spasm of his burning lungs, as he strips Jack's cock, rough and hard, adding in that special twist of his wrist that he knows should do it, and _there_ , hot come pulsing out over his hand and the sheet, and an equally explosive gust of breath as Jack finally lets it _all_ out and collapses down, panting and groaning, his relief almost as desperate as his need had been.

It's some minutes before Jack really comes to, minutes which Giles makes use of to untie the ropes from Jack's cuffs and urge him into a more comfortable position, properly on his side and clean him up. Eventually, though, Jack's gaze comes into focus and he comes out with a fervent, joyful, "Fuck, that was hot!"

Giles laughs. It's just such a very _Jack_ kind of reaction. "I'm glad you approve. I wasn't intending to take it that far when I began, but you were doing so beautifully, it seemed a shame not to take the whole thing to its obvious conclusion."

Jack chuckles, curling up a little, facing him. "Guess I'm a bad influence. Making you push further than you mean to!"

Giles experiences a faint twinge of conscience, because he's thought this before, how easy it is to take Jack so much further than he intended, but that's something to discuss another day. He doesn't want to kill the mood.

"Oh, I assure you, Jack, when I'm in charge nothing _makes_ me do anything," he says, deliberately cool, and enjoys the faint shiver that goes through Jack at the vague threat. He smiles, and reaches for the bottle of water he always has ready and waiting on the bedside table.

Jack grins and drinks some water. "So the painting, on my back. You weren't actually just making notes, were you?"

Jack's more observant than he pretends to be. Giles smiles. "No, I wasn't."

"So what was it? I felt it… _do_ something."

"It's a charm. A spell. For protection, of sorts."

" _Protection?_ " Jack's eyes are wide, dark eyebrows arched high.

It's not an unexpected reaction. After all, what protection can a man who cannot die really need?

He smiles gently, almost sadly. "For your heart. You lose so many people, Jack, and I know what it does to you, every single time. This spell will help ease the pain, the next time your heart is broken."

Jack gazes at him for a long moment, obviously touched. Then he grins it away and says, with characteristic flippancy, "As long as I don't die first, I guess. Doubt it would stay through resurrection and reset."

Giles can't help lifting a cool eyebrow at that. "Then perhaps it'll encourage you to try to stay alive for a while." Which can only be a good thing, in his opinion. Of course he's not averse to Jack leaping in front of a bullet that might kill someone else, but he's not particularly enamoured with the way Jack rather too often seems to see getting himself killed as the easy way out.

At any other time, he suspects that suggestion would get him a rebellious look, but right now Jack is still very suggestible, and that's not a bad thing either. Jack actually looks faintly ashamed, and the smile he manages looks slightly rueful. He still won't actually say it out loud, but what he does say is just as gratifying.

"Thank you, Giles. I… it means a lot. That you thought of this, and did it for me."

"My pleasure," he says, because it absolutely is. And then decides he's forced enough honesty out of Jack for one day. Time for some more fun. He glances down at the trousers he's still wearing, even after all that. "Now. It comes to my attention that you have been given a lot of attention and a very nice orgasm this afternoon. I, however, have not…"

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbeta'd so please do let me know if you spot any typos or bits that don't make sense!


End file.
